Two Queens
by sinemoras09
Summary: Sansa and Daenerys become allies. AU. Fix-it fic. Spoilers for all of Season 8. Canon divergence.


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_What about the North?_

The question burns in Sansa's mind. She wants to give voice to it, use those words like a dagger and slice to the heart of it, but she remembers her lessons, and looks into Daenerys' eyes.

"I want us to be friends," Daenerys says. Sansa smiles at her.

"I want that as well."

xXx

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This is the nature of power. Control for her isn't a matter of brute force: it is a suggestion, a whisper of a threat. A careful nudge in the right direction.

They are up late at night, drinking. Daenerys is laughing, one slender arm slung across the table as she clasps her drink.

"You can't hold your liquor," Sansa says, and the Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, giggles. Sansa smiles. On the table, the candlelight flickers, the soft orange haze backlighting Daenerys' face.

"I envy you," Daenerys says. "I never knew what it was like to have family."

"I wouldn't envy me too much," Sansa says. "It only serves as a reminder of how much I had to lose."

Daenerys is quiet. Sansa has told her - not in so many words, but enough to get the point across - about Robb and the Red Wedding, the horrors of Ramsay and the struggles of the North. "We were under a tyrant," Sansa says. "He fought against our independence, and he lost." The Breaker of Chains nods, and Sansa feels a sliver of satisfaction.

"The North needs to be free," Daenerys says. Sansa cocks her head.

"But we are one of the Seven Kingdoms, you couldn't possibly-"

"I daresay you're like a sister to me," Daenerys says, and she smiles, eyes soft and hazy and unfocused. The wine has made her easily suggestible, pliable in Sansa's hands. "I already promised the Ironborn their independence. A free North would be of little consequence to me."

"Do you mean it?" Sansa watches. Daenerys smiles again, guilelessly.

Daenerys goes to bed. Sansa watches as she moves slowly down the hallway. The drink is strong and she's wobbly on her feet, and when she reaches a hand out to steady herself Sansa stands and offers her an arm.

xXx

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A free North comes with stipulations.

"You will respect the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms. You will support my claim to the Iron Throne."

She won't meddle in the affairs of Northern men. That much Sansa can count on. "We will be allies," Daenerys says. "Two kingdoms whose sovereignty is subsumed by the other's in name only. If you are called, you will come to my aid, and I will aid the North accordingly."

"Allies," Sansa says. She glances at Jon, who seems pleased but also out of his depth. It isn't what she wants, exactly, but Daenerys is malleable. Sansa knows she'll get what she wants, eventually.

Sansa nods. "Agreed."

xXx

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The Ice King is defeated.

The celebrations are raucous. From the corner of her eye, Sansa watches as Daenerys sits in the corner, seemingly swallowed up by the throngs of men who shout and celebrate by ignoring her.

"What is wrong?" Sansa asks, but Daenerys shakes her head.

"It is nothing," Daenerys says, and she smiles painfully.

Behind them, Tormund slings an arm around Jon.

"I saw him riding that thing," Tormound says. "That's why we all agreed to follow him! That's the kind of man he is. He keeps fighting! He climbed on a fucking dragon and he fought! What kind of person climbs on a fucking dragon? A madman or a king!"

"Our Queen climbed a dragon," Sansa says, and she sees Daenerys give her a grateful look. "She's climbed dragons longer than Jon has."

"Aye, she has," Tormund says, and he lifts a glass.

"To our Queen!"

"The Ice Queen!"

"No, you fucking idiot, the Queen of Dragons! Mother of the North!"

"I think they are mixing up your honorifics," Sansa says wryly.

xXx

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Daenerys leaves. Sansa follows her down the hallway, then steps into her path.

"What is wrong," Sansa says. Daenerys opens her mouth to protest, but Sansa cuts her off. "You're upset. What is it?" she says, because she'll be damned if their alliance gets wrecked by the stupidity of men.

Daenerys shakes her head. "It is nothing," Daenerys says.

"I've heard in other cities you were celebrated," Sansa says. "You mustn't take offense. We Northerners take a while to thaw, but once they get to know you you'll be accepted."

"It...it isn't that." Daenerys presses her hands together and furrows her brow.

"If there was another," Daenerys begins, and Sansa cocks her head. "If there was another who had a greater claim...if someone came to depose me..."

"Who?" Sansa says. Daenerys' jaw clenches. Her mouth is a tight pressed line.

"Aegon Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

The words hang. Sansa stares at Daenerys, at a loss.

"I have sacrificed," Daenerys says. "I have sacrificed love. I have sacrificed friends. I have sacrificed an easy life- I have sacrificed happiness! - all to be the ruler that I know I can be! All the people I've killed, all the people I've saved - it would have been worth it, all of it! But I'm not loved. I'm not wanted. No one wants me here."

"It doesn't matter," Sansa says. Daenerys' head snaps up. Sansa steps forward.

"All those honorifics, all those things attached to your name, tell me you should have been broken. But you aren't. You climbed on the back of a fucking dragon-" and Daenerys sniffs and laughs, ruefully, "-and you're going to let some man come in and take that away?"

Daenerys wipes her eyes. She smiles.

"No," Daenerys says. "But you may think differently once you know who that man is."

"Who is it, then?"

"Jon." Her voice is soft. A shadow falls across her eyes.

xXx

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The first order of business is to get Jon to shut the hell up.

"She is my Queen," Jon says, and Sansa shakes her head.

"And if you want to keep it that way, you'll keep your name our secret. Just among us, the last of the Starks."

"What does it matter?" Arya says.

"She promised us our sovereignty in the North. We can't let anything get in the way of that."

"Dany will keep her word. I know it," Jon says.

Later, Arya takes her by the arm.

"What game do you think you're playing?" Arya says.

"A game where we stay free," Sansa says.

xXx

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Because Sansa's men are exhausted, many of them wounded, Daenerys agrees to give them time to rest and recuperate.

"You're a good leader," Daenerys says, which surprises her.

"It's not so much good leading as it is common sense," Sansa says.

She watches from the balcony as Daenerys convenes with her men. Even from Sansa's perch, she can see Daenerys' breath like plumes against the cold air, great white tufts like dragon's smoke. She's so much smaller than them, seemingly swallowed up by the vast expanse, and as she passes by the others, the men of the North ignore her.

"You should armor your dragons," Sansa says, as they walk in the courtyard. Their footsteps crunch on the snow and the dead dry grass, while Sansa leads Daenerys to the forge. "If Cersei has more Scorpions, the armor may help deflect them."

"Can that be done?" Daenerys says. Sansa smiles and nods toward Gendry, who's tending the forge.

"I'll just give him the specifications," Sansa says.

xXx

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The blacksmiths are skittish, as none of them have ever fitted armor for dragons.

The dragons grunt, then roar, shaking their long necks as the blacksmiths try draping the armor across them. Daenerys coos and shushes them, reaching a calming hand to their scales, soothing them with her presence.

"The armor is heavy," Daenerys says. She looks back at Sansa, frowning. "It might affect how they fly."

Sansa starts to speak, but Daenerys has already climbed onto Rhaegal's back, mounting him.

"Now your turn," Daenerys says. Sansa's eyes widen.

"I don't think you want me mounting your dragons," Sansa says.

"Don't be ridiculous." Rhaegal's wings puff out, sending small gusts of wind as they pulse methodically. "Drogon is gentle. He'll let you."

Sansa frowns, then reaches out a hand. Drogon lifts his head and narrows his eyes. His nostrils flare out as she gets closer to him.

"I think I'd better not," Sansa says. Daenerys laughs, patting Rhaegal's neck and climbing off him.

"Here," Daenerys says, and she takes Sansa by the arm. "Drogon will lower his head - see there. Now just climb on up-"

Sansa laughs. "This is terrible," Sansa says.

"Just step up like so, and-"

"I'm not wearing a riding skirt, my dress is riding up my legs!"

"Well it's a good thing no one else is riding, then." Daenerys grins at her. Drogon rears up and Sansa shrieks and clings to his scales.

Sansa slides back down, and Daenerys gives Drogon an affectionate pat. The beast nuzzles her hand happily.

"They really are like your children, aren't they?" Now they're walking down the courtyard, Daenerys looking out at the forge and the Northern men preparing around her.

"They are my life," Daenerys says.

Her eyes grow distant as Sansa watches her, able to read her pain plainly on her face.

"When I think of King's Landing, I think of the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside my window. You may ask me why I'm doing this. Why I'm risking everything when I could have just stayed in Mereen. But to me it was my childhood. It was everything they took from me."

"You just want to go home," Sansa says, and Daenerys nods, quietly.

"I know what that's like," Sansa says. "When I was in King's Landing, all I ever did was dream about going back to the North. We've suffered so long under the hand of tyrants. It's why we dream of being free."

"And you shall have it," Daenerys says. Sansa lifts her eyes.

"Have what?" Sansa says. Daenerys rests her hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"Freedom," Daenerys says.

Sansa stares at her wonderingly.

xXx

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When the battle commences, everything goes to hell.

Missandei is dead. Rhaegal is hit and gravely injured, the plate armor cracking from the force of the spears.

The letter from Varys cuts to the point: _Go to Dragonstone. You must talk to her_.

xXx

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"She isn't eating," Jon says. "She won't take food and she isn't taking any visitors."

Sansa straightens the clasp to her cloak, preparing to walk forward.

A thick square of white light cuts through the dark, as Sansa steps into Daenerys' bedchamber. Save for the few streaks of watery light which trickle through the half-closed curtains, everything is dark. Sansa closes the door and lets her eyes adjust, the shapes of shadows gradually giving way to more detail: a canopied bed; a lacquered dresser. The shape of her would-be Queen, standing in the corner.

"You are here," Daenerys says. Slowly she turns, and Sansa can see the gauntness of her face. "Varys sent for you."

"He did," Sansa says. She holds up the letter and steps forward, showing her. "He said you needed someone to talk to."

She makes a sound, a sort of disbelieving half-laugh, then turns, looking out into the courtard. "Rhaegal survived," Daenerys says. "I suppose I should thank you for having me armor him."

"I'm sorry about Missandei," Sansa says, and Daenerys closes her eyes, a tear spilling over. "I know she was your friend-"

"She was more than a friend. She was my sister. She was like family to me."

Sansa stops, at a loss. Daenerys turns.

"I know why you're here," Daenerys says. "Varys thinks I'm unfit to rule."

"What?" Sansa says. Daenerys' eyes narrow.

"Jon told them," Daenerys says.

_The fucking idiot!_ Sansa thinks. And then, "They know he's the rightful heir. They think it best if Jon were king."

"But Jon doesn't want that," Sansa begins, but Daenerys cuts her off.

"It doesn't matter," Daenerys says. "I no longer have a legitimate claim. Those who oppose me can agitate under his name."

Daenerys turns again, facing the window.

"It seems you were quite the apt pupil," Daenerys says, bitterly. "Gaining my trust and using the tools of Littlefinger to manipulate me. You want so badly to free the North that you saw fit to deceive me."

"That's crazy!" Sansa says, and Daenerys turns sharply. "I've done nothing but give you support! You have allies with Jon and the North!"

"I have no allies here. Only those who wish to betray me."

Sansa takes a step back. Daenerys' eyes flash angrily.

"I am alone," Daenerys says. "Everyone has abandoned me."

"Who?" Sansa says. "Varys? Jon?"

"Jorah," Daenerys says. "Missandei. The Dothraki. Half of all my armies.

"You should have seen his face," Daenerys says, tremulously, "when I told Samwell Tarly what I did to his family. He and your brother shared their doubts with Jon, and even if he doesn't want the throne, others may start to conspire against me. But I won't let that happen. If they won't love me, let them fear me. Let them know what happens when they cross me."

"You mean when you killed Sam's family," Sansa says, understanding. She steps forward, offering her arm.

"_If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die._"

"What?" Daenerys says. Sansa lets her hand fall onto her shoulder.

"It's what my father always said," Sansa says. "A just man swings the sword when he sentences another to death. You gave them a chance, but they refused it," Sansa says, and Daenerys lifts her eyes. "You were right about me. I only wanted to use you in the beginning. But I was wrong, your friendship means the world to me. You shouldn't doubt yourself: you let them say their piece. You looked them in the eyes. You are a good and just queen."

Daenerys' eyes are bright and glassy. She takes a shuddery breath, and Sansa can see it: the loneliness of her isolation, the pain and hurt and grief and rage.

Daenerys sobs. Sansa rushes forward, hugging her and letting her cry on her shoulder.

xXx

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It doesn't take long to convince Varys of Daenerys' thinking.

"Jon executed the child Olly and beheaded Janos Slynt. Tell me how his actions are any different," Sansa says.

"It is not the past that I fear, but the potential she may become a tyrant," Varys says. Sansa bristles.

"Her friend was beheaded," Sansa says. "Her dragon was nearly killed."

"I agree with Sansa," Jon says, and Tyrion and Varys trade glances with each other.

"She just wants to go home," Sansa says. "If she believes no one will support her, of course she'll resort to force.

"Jon doesn't want to be king. We all know this. But that won't stop people from fighting in his name. If she believes she is cornered, she will use her dragon," Sansa says. She steps forward, spreading her hands.

"Drogon is the only thing she can count on right now, she needs to know she isn't alone."

xXx

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"Your Grace," Varys says, and Daenerys lifts her eyes. "It appears I should be the one to apologize."

Daenerys' eyes are dim. Sansa touches her arm and nods.

xXx

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They sit together on the eve of battle, Sansa folding her hands while Daenerys stares into the fire.

"Do you know what she said, before she was beheaded? She told me, _Dracarys._ Those were her last words."

"She wanted you to raze King's Landing," Sansa says. It isn't a question. Daenerys nods, quietly.

"No one shall escape my wrath. Tomorrow I'll cast the final judgment."

"You should save it all for Cersei," Sansa says. "The smallfolk are too frightened to oppose her rule. They'll rally for you when they get their freedom."

Daenerys is quiet. Her eyes stay focused on the fire.

"I am the Breaker of Chains," Daenerys says. She looks at Sansa, the fire burning bright.

"I will be the first to break the wheel."

xXx

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The bells ring, and Daenerys signals to her men to lay down their arms.

The smallfolk hide, watching fearfully as Daenerys dismounts from her dragon. Drogon's nostrils flare, and his tail swishes quietly, while the people murmur and look on at the woman who would be their newest Queen.

There is a streak of sunlight that breaks through the clouds, and all at once, Daenerys is bathed in light. Slowly, the people step forward, the smudged faces of the commoners looking up at her with hushed wonder.

"I am Daenerys Targaryen. Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. And I am here to set you free."

Around them, the soldiers begin to chant. It's only a few moments before the people join them.

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end.


End file.
